


The Shape of Things

by edibleflowers



Category: U2
Genre: F/M, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kiss is much more than a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shape of Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first U2 slash I've written... well, as a fanfic. I once never thought I'd find the thought of Adam/Larry less than unsettling, but it's amazing how perceptions can change. Anyway, this is something of a GSF and has some naughty bits because my mind doesn't just live in the gutter, it thrives there. Written over the course of the past week or so and would not have been completed without the aid (and idea-bouncing) of lemniskate, so I do thank her for that. This is RPS. If you're not into RPS, do not read this.
> 
> Originally posted on June 4, 2008, on my Livejournal.

It starts with a kiss. It's the fourth show of the Vertigo tour, in Anaheim, when Bono approaches Adam at the top of the second verse in "Streets"; Adam's anticipating the usual arm around his shoulder or perhaps Bono draping himself over his back as he's been wont to do. He's still smiling amiably when Bono cups his face in one hand and leans in for the briefest press of lips to Adam's.

Before Adam can react, Bono's away again, heading back toward Edge and past him to the walkway. Adam's playing by rote, muscle memory keeping him in time, and he blinks, shrugs, and then smiles. Bono's never done that before, on or offstage, but there's apparently a first time for everything. They'd choreographed this part of the show as they had everything else, in a loose sort of arrangement open to change as the mood might strike. Bono had said he would come over to Adam for a moment there, but now Adam wonders if Bono might be trying to even out his time spent with Edge onstage. Or something.

He glances over at the drumkit to see if Larry caught it, and is briefly surprised by the dark look on Larry's face, directed Bono's way. A moment later, he's distracted by the flash of a sign from the audience, and his attention is back on the music, at least on the surface. His mind still races, reliving that kiss.

Adam's agreeable to the idea. Truth be told, it's more than a little welcome. But he knows better than to hope for more; the gesture is strictly symbolic.

The next night, Bono does it again.

* * *

By the ninth show, Adam's starting to eagerly anticipate "Streets" for more than just the rush of connection with the audience, the way the energy rises and soars as the drums kick in and the guitar picks up. There hasn't been a kiss on the lips every night, but Bono hasn't failed to bestow some sign of affection; a kiss on the cheek or the back of the head, a squeeze 'round the shoulders, a hug leaned over the bass while Adam's still playing.

Tonight, when the moment comes, Bono approaches with his arms spread, brings one hand to rest loosely on Adam's nape, and closes his eyes as he touches his mouth to Adam's. Adam shivers a little with the spark of heat; even though it's less than a second of contact, it shakes him.

Though he's used to Bono's onstage flirting with Edge -- had mostly turned a blind eye to it -- he finds he can't stop thinking about these brief, tantalizing, teasing kisses. They occupy his thoughts, playing havoc with his mental processes. He has to do something about it.

After the show, they have a little time to detox in the two large dressing rooms, since they're not doing a runner tonight. Adam finds Bono alone in the first room and smiles, closing the door behind him to make sure they're left alone. Bono measures the room in quick strides, muttering to himself and pausing occasionally to scribble words into a notebook on the table. Adam takes his time, shrugging out of the sweaty shirt and tugging on a lighter robe, pouring a glass of water, sitting and closing his eyes while Bono paces off revolutions of the room.

"Ads," he hears suddenly, and Bono's settled next to him, legs crossed, thigh twitching. "Let's go exploring tonight."

Adam grins. "Sure, if you want." They're less than six inches apart, and he brings a hand up to rest on Bono's shoulder, half around his back. "One thing first, though."

Bono arches an eyebrow, and Adam leans in to kiss him.

He keeps it short, sweet, like the stage kisses. Bono inhales as Adam pulls back, but there's no hint of repugnance or dislike in his face; he's just watching Adam with wide eyes. "What was that for?" he asks.

"Payback." Adam smiles and stands. "See you back at the hotel," he says, and heads out into the hall to find out if the cars are ready.

* * *

The next night, Bono embraces Adam from behind, arm wrapped around his shoulders, and drops a kiss on the curve of his shoulder. After the show, they race for the cars and the two of them pile into one vehicle while Larry and Edge take the other.

Bono's eyebrows are raised in anticipation now. Adam slides across the seat between them, cups Bono's nape under his palm, and drops a soft kiss on his lips.

* * *

By the third time Adam kisses Bono, it's become a ritual. Bono kisses him onstage; afterwards, Adam finds Bono and returns it. Adam tries to keep it light at first, but the anticipation is almost greater than what he feels for the onstage kisses, and on the sixth kiss, he presses Bono into a table edge, leaning him back as their mouths meet.

The seventh kiss is in a dark alcove under the stage moments after the show has ended. Adam leans against a metal strut and pulls Bono to him. Both are breathing sharply by the end of it.

Kiss nine happens in the dressing room again, Adam urgently pushing Bono against the wall and licking his lips. They break apart with a gasp as the door swings open, Bono turning away and pulling his cellphone out of a pocket to pretend he was in the middle of a conversation while Adam reaches for a bottle of water and gulps it. He assiduously ignores the curious looks Larry and Edge toss him.

Kiss twelve is in the hotel after the show. Adam stops in Bono's bedroom, finding him shirtless on the bed. He tugs the remote control out of Bono's hand, kneels on the mattress next to him, and finds Bono's mouth for a leisurely, consuming kiss that leaves them both breathless.

* * *

The thirteenth kiss doesn't happen, because Ali and Jordan have joined the tour for a couple of weeks, and after the show, Adam swings past Bono's room with a sigh. Whatever this is, it shouldn't be happening anyway, he tells himself as he goes on to his own room, peels off his clothes and steps into the shower. The pounding water doesn't do much to clear his head.

Bono's circumspect on stage, too, settling for a quick squeeze around Adam's shoulders or a friendly clasp to the back of his neck. Once he takes off his straw cowboy-style hat and drops it on Adam's head, making the audience laugh. Adam smiles gamely, playing along and missing their illicit kisses with a surprising ache.

* * *

Adam bides his time while Bono's wife is on the tour. Ali is a lovely woman, both inside and out, with a sweet smile and dark, dancing eyes. Adam's tempted to ask her what she makes of Bono's onstage antics, but decides not to. There's always been a strong bond between Ali and her husband, unspoken sentiments stretching from one to the other. He feels slightly awkward around them and spends his time alone, or hanging out with Larry or Edge.

He has a sneaking suspicion that Larry knows something of what's been going on. Though he hasn't seen the same raw look on Larry's face since that first kiss, he catches Larry looking at him now and then with calculating thoughtfulness. He's hesitant to mention anything to him, though, or to Edge, who seems indifferent to the whole thing. Edge is insular, though, clever at hiding his feelings. Adam has to scold himself when he starts thinking that what they're doing could have any long-term ramifications. It's just kissing, for God's sake.

* * *

After Philadelphia, Ali and Jordan are headed back to Dublin. Bono's back to his usual habit the following night, slinging an arm around Adam's shoulders and finding the corner of Adam's mouth with his lips. He's away again a moment later like it's nothing, but Adam's shivering, his bass concealing a sudden, uncomfortable erection, and it's with an effort that he contains himself, smiling and nodding to the audience as if nothing's happened.

The four of them tumble into one car after the show, and Adam pushes down the hunger that's been boiling in him since "Streets", hoping there'll be a moment in private, sometime, for him to match that onstage kiss. His mind darts ahead to their schedule. Paul and some of the crew will be there on the plane during the flight to Boston, and then there's checking in at the hotel to look forward to; _bollocks_ , he thinks, _it'll be hours_. He participates in the post-show breakdown with only half a brain, not noticing the looks Larry gives him.

As anticipated, they're far from alone on the plane, so Adam tucks himself into a seat and closes his eyes, hoping that he'll somehow be able to sleep his way through until the hotel and relief, at his own hand if nothing else. But Larry sits next to him, and Adam does his best to give a weary smile.

"Hope y'don't mind if I don't talk much," he says.

"I did have a question." Larry's voice is low. Adam raises an eyebrow. "What's goin' on with you an' Bono?"

Adam has, over the years, become particularly adept at hiding his reactions behind an easy smile and a lift of his eyebrows. He does this now, concealing the panic that strikes him at Larry's words. "With me an' B?" he asks, affecting a confused tone. "Dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Don't give me that," says Larry, who can smell bullshit a hundred yards away. "I know what's been goin' on."

"Why don't you tell me, then." Adam feels something gnawing in his stomach, the cold bite of fear, but damned if he'll let it show.

"All this kissing," Larry says. His voice is strange. "Durin' the show, it's one thing, but I saw you in his room."

Adam's easy response is gone. All he can think is, _Shite_. He closes his eyes, rubs them with his fingers. "I don't know," he offers after a quiet moment. It was all supposed to be fun, easy, flirtatious and light.

Larry's hand takes his, suddenly, pulling it away from his eyes, their fingers tangling. Adam raises his head and blinks owlishly at Larry. It's dark in the plane's cabin, the overhead lights dimmed; only small lights here and there illuminate individual heads. Larry's eyes are dark, too, and Adam can't make out the expression in them.

"I've been jealous," Larry admits, and Adam identifies the strange note in his voice. It's pain. His mouth twists, but before he can respond, Larry leans in, his mouth meeting Adam's.

Though the contact is brief, it sears Adam. Larry's lips are full and smooth, hot, touching him with a sweetness that makes Adam wonder anew about the look he saw on Larry's face after the first stage kiss. "Larry," he whispers.

Larry shakes his head. "Don't," he says. "I don't want to know. Whatever's been going on, it doesn't matter. As long as -- as long as no one's gettin' hurt. But I had to tell you."

Adam's heart thumps hard. "Jesus," he mutters, and shakes his head a little. "How long--" But Larry shakes his head again. So there are some things that don't get asked, Adam thinks. All right. He touches Larry's chin, rough with stubble. "I won't say I'm sorry," he says.

A brief smile touches the corners of Larry's mouth, deepening the lines that bracket his lips. "Nor should you be," he says. "But if he's gettin' kisses, I want some, too."

At that, Adam can't help but grin. "Fair enough," he says.

* * *

Nothing happens until after Boston and the tour break, though. Then they pick up again in Brussels, adapting to a larger outdoor stage, changing up the setlist a bit. Three shows into the European leg and Adam's starting to understand that this isn't going to play out as simply, as lightly, as he'd hoped. Every kiss Bono gives him onstage means there'll be another later from Larry, and Adam begins to wonder if Edge is simply biding his time to get in on the action as well.

The first night is easy enough. Bono falls back with Adam as they head offstage, down into the underworld below, after the closing reprise of "Vertigo". They're in the dark, the others gone ahead; Adam catches him around the waist, smiling, and drops a smooth kiss on his lips to leave them both grinning conspiratorially at each other in the darkness.

"You've started something," Adam tells him, while they're still touching each other.

"Larry?" Bono says, an eyebrow raised over his glasses, and Adam doesn't feel the worry he expected. Bono's eyes are sparkling, warm. "He's all for equality."

"I know," Adam says, and chuckles. Above them, around them, the screaming of the fans continues, unabated despite the fact that the houselights have come up and music is playing over the PA. Adam lets go of Bono and steps away, the steady shouting measuring his walk to the dressing room.

At the hotel, he's showered and changed, a cup of tea steaming at a table by the window, when a knock on the open door heralds Larry's arrival. Larry's cleaned up, too, and Adam smiles at him from his seat at the table.

"Going out?" he asks.

Larry shakes his head, closing the door behind him. "Staying in," he says, and comes over to the table, placing one hand next to the cup of tea and the other on the back of Adam's chair. Adam inhales when Larry's mouth meets his. There's an electric tingle that lasts for just that moment. When he blinks his eyes, Larry's smiling up close at him, then stepping back toward the door.

"See you tomorrow," he says, his smile enigmatic, and Adam wonders dazedly if Larry somehow knew about that kiss belowstage.

* * *

If nothing else, the succession of teasing kisses is starting to give Adam a bad case of blueballs. Though he takes care of himself in the shower after every show, it doesn't seem to help the gnawing need.

It doesn't help that he's caught Edge's dark looks in Bono's direction the past couple of shows, either. Something's waiting to explode there; Adam isn't sure he wants to be around when it happens.

Susie arrives unexpectedly in Glasgow. It only takes her a few moments to assess the situation, her sharp eyes perceiving every nuance of new tension between the four old friends. An hour after her arrival, she's hooked her hand in Adam's and taken him back to his hotel room and to bed.

"You need to be careful with this," she tells him afterwards, both of them sated and quiet in the aftermath. Adam gives her a weak smile.

"Don't think I don't know that."

"Well, I wonder." She sits up a little, her mouth tense, and Adam reaches up to touch her cheek. They've always had an agreement, the two of them, ever since he told her about his bisexuality: he was free to enjoy the company of men, as long as he was open and honest with her about it. He'd told her once, among the many other secrets they'd shared, that he wouldn't turn down an invitation from any of the others; but before now, he had honestly never suspected any interest in that direction from them. But now...

He swallows and nods. "It's playing with fire. I know."

"And I don't want you to get burned. That's all." She bends to kiss him, so tender and sweet that for a moment Adam knows he could give all the rest up for these kisses alone. "I love you," she whispers against his mouth.

* * *

Susie stays only for a few days, too busy with work and her own responsibilities to hang about any longer. Once the tour leaves Dublin, she's gone, too. Adam stares at the window of the hotel room of wherever the hell they are now, sighs, and steels himself. He's going to have to talk to Bono before it gets out of hand.

When he goes to knock on Bono's door, though, he hears raised voices on the other side. The words are muffled but the identity of the debators is clear: Bono's voice rises sharply, followed a moment later by a hissed remark from Edge. Adam lowers his hand from where he'd been about to knock. He'll come back later.

* * *

That night, the show is tense with a heated, unpleasant energy. Adam avoids Edge as much as possible, and Bono makes his approaches to Adam short and brief. When he leans on Larry during "Love and Peace or Else", Adam walks a slow circle at the far end of the opposite catwalk arm and wonders if Bono's sagging in relief or weariness.

There's no kissing afterward. Adam goes alone to his room, passing up offers from members of Principle and the crew to go out. He's starting to think this whole thing was a horrible idea.

Loud knocking on his door awakes him late the next morning, and he blearily stumbles to the door with a robe hurriedly tugged around him. Bono's on the other side, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Let me in," he says, so Adam steps back, closing the door after the far-too-energetic Bono.

The room is still dark, the curtains closed against the sunlight, and Bono tugs his glasses off and tosses them to the bureau. "You wouldn't believe what happened," he says, his enthusiasm almost childlike, and it's that quality alone that makes Adam smile -- a little -- as he ties the robe properly and moves to the coffeemaker to start a pot.

"What, then?" he asks.

"I-- Edge--" Bono starts, then stops and barks a laugh. Adam doesn't need to hear more.

"You worked things out," he says, keeping his smile firmly in place while he pours water and adds grounds, starts the machine up.

"That's one way to put it." Bono's thrumming with energy. _How late was he up_? Adam wonders. He keeps his face calm, though, raising only an eyebrow.

"So was he upset at being left out?" Adam asks.

"Sort of." Bono comes up to Adam, running a hand through his hair. "Come here." He tugs Adam over to the couch; Adam follows, pliant and unresisting. "The thing is," Bono says, and his eyes are dark and sincere, "there's always been something there. But we've never -- never talked about it, never pushed anything. Until now."

Adam nods. The catalyst for this new development is apparent. "I understand. It's all right, B."

"No," and Bono's hand touches Adam's face, thick fingers urging Adam to look up at him again. "Ads, I don't, I don't want this to stop."

Adam feels a wry smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "This is just for fun, right? It doesn't mean anything."

The look Bono gives him is utterly serious. "Don't lie to me, Adam. We at least owe each other that much."

Adam doesn't know whether to sigh or roll his eyes. "Look, whatever, whatever's going on, it's just been for play. We're all a little too old to make a drama out of it."

"And I don't want drama," Bono insists. "But I'm not going to let you sell yourself short, Adam."

The feeling of being caged in rises; Adam has to stand, and the coffeemaker provides a handy excuse, beeping to indicate the completion of its cycle. His hands are steady as he pours; he offers the mug to Bono, who shakes his head.

"I'm not selling myself short," Adam says, finally, having managed to gather his thoughts. "But thinking about all of this logically, it's a lot of hurt waiting to happen. I'm not willing to ask for something at the expense of someone else's feelings."

He's thinking about Edge and the hurt looks, but then an image of Larry springs into his head, dark eyes and weary shoulders, and a pang goes through him. "It's not worth it," he says, softer.

Bono's hand touches his shoulder, and when Adam lifts his head to look at him, Bono leans in, his hand light on Adam's neck, and kisses him. This is nothing like their previous kisses. Bono's mouth is warm, gentle, but sure and firm at the same time, insistent. His other hand removes the mug from Adam's nerveless fingers and puts it down next to the coffee machine. That's good; it frees Adam to slide his hands around Bono's waist, feeling the solidity of Bono's body, the heat through a thin t-shirt.

"I think it is worth it," Bono says, and Adam can't help smiling softly.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Bono pulls his clothes on again, telling Adam they'll talk more, about what's happening with Edge and with Ali and that it'll all be all right. Adam, stepping into the shower, bemusedly nods and watches the door close behind Bono.

The hot water revives him somewhat, though he's still feeling dazed, astonished at the morning's turn of events. Can this crazy situation work somehow? If Bono thinks it can, then Adam has to feel like it might. Bono's determination has plowed through many an obstacle in the past.

Adam grins as he washes his hair, scrubs his skin. He can still feel Bono's hands on his skin; can still taste his mouth, anything but shy. Though Adam left his fair share of reminders on Bono, too, and he shivers when he thinks about seeing marks later. He's already looking forward to telling Susie about this turn of events.

Just as he's getting dressed, there's a knock on the door. Groaning, he leaves his shirt half-unbuttoned and goes to get it. Larry's standing there, looking less than pleased.

"Soundcheck," he says bluntly, and turns to head off down the hallway.

Adam blinks after him. His good mood sinks like a stone. _Bono won't be able to plow through this obstacle_ , he thinks to himself with a sigh, and closes the door to finish getting dressed.

* * *

Soundcheck, interviews, meeting fans, the concert: it all passes in a haze of activity, and Adam's grateful for the work that keeps him busy and not thinking about things. Bono drapes himself over Adam like a cat during "An Cat Dubh" and Adam shivers with memory of heated bare skin pressed to his. The kiss in "Streets" is as brief and playful as ever; but Adam carefully doesn't look at Larry afterwards.

It's still complicated, no matter how simple Bono might think things are. The balance of emotion between them is delicate; though the bonds of friendship have strengthened, grown solid over the past near-thirty years, Adam knows better than to assume that nothing can change that. And the introduction of this new level of awareness of each other, each kiss and touch meaning more than ever, simply tangles the web further.

Adam's tempted, after "Yahweh", to try getting a car alone and making a clean getaway; but he's reeled in by Bono's arm over his shoulders as he descends from the stage and can't escape. Edge is grinning, his eyes squinched up, patting Bono's back and then turning his smile in Adam's direction. Adam smiles back a little nervously. Larry trails behind them; Adam can feel the glare boring right between his shoulderblades.

It's awkward in the car, too. Edge pulls Bono in to sit next to him, clearly revelling in the freedom of being able to touch Bono. Adam sits on the opposite seat, far away from Larry, who has his arms folded across his chest as he stares out the window. Adam tips his head back and closes his eyes, listening with only half an ear as Edge starts up the breakdown of the show. He hears Larry's muttered responses, wonders to himself if the fascinating exploration of a few hours earlier, the momentary pleasure and joy at being with Bono, has cost him a beloved friendship.

He hears Bono saying his name and realizes suddenly that Bono's spoken more than once. "Ads," he says again, a bit perturbed-sounding. Adam lifts his head.

"Sorry," he says, and easily lies. "I've got a bit of a headache." It satisfies Bono, at any rate, but he feels Larry's eyes on him.

* * *

The excuse of the headache allows him to escape at the hotel, with promises of taking some aspirin and laying down. Once he closes the door, though, he latches it and then sags back with a heavy sigh. He doesn't know how to fix this, or if it even can be fixed. _So much for a few kisses_ , he thinks, and for a moment his gaze flickers toward the sealed minibar.

But it's been too long, and Adam's too aware of the consequences, for him to seriously consider opening that door. He straightens instead, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to a chair, and heads into the shower. While the headache was a lie, his head does feel full and tight, and he's hoping the hot water will help clear his senses.

Twenty minutes later, clean and feeling a little more himself, Adam walks naked out of the bathroom to find Larry sitting on his bed. He yelps and drags the towel he'd been using on his hair around his hips.

"Jesus!" Larry says, his strong Dublin accent making the word come out as _Jaysis_. "Christ, Ads, you'll give a man a heart attack."

"So I can't even walk around naked in the privacy of my own hotel room?" Adam tucks in the towel, his heart still racing, though he keeps his tone light and flippant. "And how was I to know you were there?"

Larry's face is red, Adam notes. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Because I'm always so conservative in my attire?" Adam suggests. Now that the shock has worn off some, he has to admit it's kind of funny. "You're the one who made fun of my habits more than anyone."

"All right, all right, I'm sorry already." Standing up, Larry scrubs a hand through his messy hair. He still looks plenty discomfited, though the flush is fading.

Chuckling, Adam fetches the hotel robe and ties it around his waist, then goes to his bags to find a pair of pajama pants. "You should knock next time. Or yodel," he advises, heading back into the bathroom to change.

"You wouldn't have heard me over the water," Larry says; Adam's left the door open so the conversation can continue, but an extension of the wall keeps Adam's privacy intact. _Not that it really matters now_ , he thinks to himself with a smirk.

"So what did you want?" he calls back, dropping the robe and towel and pulling the pants on. Feeling more adequately covered, he comes back out to the main area of the room.

Larry's still standing by the bed, his hands stuck deep in his pockets, and after a moment he turns toward Adam with a resigned look. "I wanted to. I guess. I needed to apologize."

Just like that, none of it seems to matter. Adam shakes his head dismissively. "No need," he says. "Honestly," as Larry starts to protest. "You were upset. I get that."

"But it didn't give me the right to act like an ass." Larry shakes his head, looking away. He looks small and alone all at once, and Adam's surprised by the sudden urge to go to him. He busies himself instead with a bottle of water, pouring himself a glass, asking Larry if he wants some. Larry shakes his head, stays where he is, so Adam sits down on the couch and tucks a leg underneath himself.

After a few moments, Larry drifts over to sit down as well, and Adam smiles softly at him. "This is a bit strange, isn't it," he comments.

"Talkin' about our feelings?" Larry's mouth quirks in a wry smile. "God knows we've done so much of that in the past."

Adam shrugs and chuckles. "I suppose, yeah. And at our age, it seems a bit late to begin."

Larry nods absently. His gaze slides away, toward the dark window. Adam opened the curtains before he jumped into the shower, and the city skyline is spread out, shining, below them. _In this city of blinding lights_ , Adam thinks to himself with a smile.

"It bothered me more than I wanted to admit," Larry says suddenly. "Seein' you kissin' him. It never gave me a turn when it was Susie. And I think I could have handled it if--if all I felt was that I didn't like seein' two men kissing. But I knew it was more than that."

"Larry," Adam says softly.

Larry shakes his head. When he looks at Adam again, his eyes are dark. "I hate this, this jealousy. I wanted to -- to just let it be fun, because you were clearly havin' fun, not being too serious about any of it. And more than anything I wanted you to be happy."

Adam's head is starting to reel. This is more than he'd imagined, more serious, more complicated. "I'm starting to think I should be the one apologizing," he says softly.

"No." Larry reaches out then and touches Adam's knee. Though it's only a momentary contact, it sends a frisson of sensation through Adam; Larry's hand is warm, the fabric of the pajama pants thin. "No, Ads. You've done nothing wrong."

"Then what do we do?" Adam turns the glass in his hands, taking a long sip and then setting it aside. "Sit here apologizin' to each other 'til it's time for the next show?"

"Can--Can I ask you something?" Larry sounds hesitant, almost shy. Adam nods, watching him carefully. Larry licks his lips, his hands folded, elbows resting on his knees. "You and Bono. You slept together?"

Slowly, Adam nods again. A little chill chases over his skin. "This morning. Yeah."

Larry makes a soft sound, wiping his mouth with the palm of one hand. He shakes his head a little, looking at Adam once more with a little twist to his lips that might be a smile or a grimace. "You know, part of me just wants to say, if he gets you, then it's only fair that I do, too."

Adam's starting to comprehend, however slowly, the motivation behind Larry's words. "Why not say it, then?" he invites.

Larry does smile then, if only for a moment, the corners of his mouth going deep, though the expression flickers away again a second later. "Because I haven't the right. Kissing's one thing, but this..."

In all his life, Adam's never known Larry to back down from a challenge, to be shy of asking for something he wants or feels he deserves. But this is a line that's never been crossed, never even been spoken of before. No wonder he's hesitant. It's Adam's turn to reach out, and he does, touching Larry's shoulder, letting himself feel the warmth through the soft cotton of Larry's shirt. "Then let me say it," he says. "It's your turn, Larry." And he leans forward, bridging the distance between them to find Larry's mouth with his.

Larry makes a startled sound, but it's only for a moment; then he's gripping Adam's nape in one hand, responding with eager urgency to the kiss. It's a shock of pleasure, Larry's tongue, his hot mouth, his hands seeking and exploring Adam's bare skin, and Adam wants to laugh as he presses closer. All the tension in the room has evaporated, or perhaps transformed, evolved into the rush of heat between them, hands grasping at clothes, tearing at shirt and jeans and pajamas, pulling and persuading until Adam's rolled them down and over, bracing himself over Larry. He grins, and Larry's face mirrors it, eyes dancing. "OK?" he asks.

"Getting there," Larry laughs, tugs him down for another kiss.

* * *

Adam's surprised by how intense it is, though he thinks later that he shouldn't be. Larry has a narrowminded focus with anything he does, and sex is certainly no exception. He's not shy at all once their clothes are off; he touches Adam with a kind of wonder, mapping him first with his experienced hands, then with his mouth, finding paths over Adam's skin that make Adam groan and cry out, uncaring of who might overhear.

Adam pushes them over, the rush of heat and excitement making him feel like a fumbling teenager as he pushes a knee between Larry's and grinds his pelvis into Larry's. They both cry out at that bolt of pleasure, and Larry's hand hooks his nape, holding on tight as they rock and slide, messy strokes, hot satin-smooth flesh on flesh, rubbing into wiry hair and rough curls and Adam's coming, gasping his orgasm into Larry's neck even as he feels the wetness spilling between them. Larry's breathing his name into Adam's ear, and a moment later Adam feels Larry's whole body go tense, then limp as a wet noodle.

Boneless, he drapes himself on Larry, feeling the heat slowly drain out of him. Larry's arm slips almost possessively around Adam's waist, and Adam smiles to himself against Larry's strong shoulder.

"Jesus Christ," he whispers finally.

Larry gives a soft snort. "Scrambled your brain that much, did it?"

With a low chuckle, Adam pushes up to rest on an elbow, patting Larry's chest with one hand. "Just about. Here, let me get..." Not bothering to finish his sentence, he reaches across Larry to grasp for the box of tissues on the nightstand. Divining his intent, Larry takes the box and hands Adam a handful, and Adam idly cleans them both of the sticky mess sealing their bellies together.

Once he's finished, he tosses the ball of tissues to the wastebasket, missing by a good foot or so. He chuckles as he lowers himself to Larry's side once more; Larry's arm comes around him again, as if it's entirely natural for the two of them to be laying here like this, naked and warm and replete.

"Stay," Adam says quietly, and Larry nods.

"Wouldn't go anywhere," he murmurs. It's the last thing Adam hears as he drifts off.

* * *

When he wakes, it's late morning, and dim sunlight slants through the curtains that had been left open last night. Slow to process as he always is when first waking up, Adam blinks, wondering for a moment why there's another body in his bed. Then the events of the night before come back to him, and he smiles, settling against Larry once more.

He wonders what Bono will make of this new development. A flash of imagery comes to him suddenly as he thinks that Bono was undoubtedly with Edge last night; but strangely, it doesn't bother him like he thought it would. Or perhaps not so strangely. His hand splays over Larry's lower stomach, fingertip brushing in the short, rough hair trailing downward. He's had quite the night himself.

For now, he's not going to worry about what it all means. Larry makes a little sound and turns toward him, his own eyes blinking open and Adam slides his arm around Larry's waist. It's comfortable and easy to close his eyes and kiss Larry in a lazy morning greeting, to let his hands wander and discover the sleekness of Larry's body, the hard muscle and bone, soft skin just _there_... and then thought deserts him completely as Larry's hands find him, too, each of them discovering the other anew.

* * *

Larry wakes him later. He's gotten out of bed and splashed some water on his face; his hair is wet around the edges, and he's donned his trousers once more. "Lazybones," Larry accuses, as Adam rubs his eyes and yawns.

"Fuck off," Adam mutters, but he shakes the sheets away and sits up, rolling his shoulders and stretching. "Do we have to be somewhere?"

"Eventually." Larry goes back to the table by the door, and a moment later Adam hears the familiar, welcome sound of coffee brewing. He groans as the scent starts to fill the room.

"God, I'm knackered," he sighs. "Aren't you?"

Larry turns, reaching for his shirt, and smiles wryly. "I just wake up quicker," he says.

Adam sits and scratches idly until the coffee's done; then he gets up, scoring a pair of trousers from the bureau, and pulls them on while Larry pours mugs for both of them. He sits on the couch to inhale and then sip at it; Larry settles next to him, close enough that their knees brush. It's an easy intimacy, as if the years of friendship have paved the way for this moment.

"I thought it'd be awkward," Adam says quietly.

Larry smiles. "So did I." Adam reaches over, drawing his fingers over Larry's hand, and Larry turns to clasp Adam's, tangling their fingers together.

"What happens now?" Larry asks.

Adam can't help but give his inimitable shrug and smile. "Buggered if I know." Larry's eyebrow goes up, a gleam in his eye that makes Adam grin even as he goes a little breathless. Now _there's_ an idea-- but he cuts off his imagination sharply. "I'm going to have to watch what I say, aren't I?"

"And then some." Larry chuckles, taking another swallow of coffee. "I think we'll be all right," he says softly, gaze drifting toward the window.

Adam nods, and for a little while they're quiet, having their coffee together, listening to the sounds of the hotel outside: busboys with clanking carts, occasional bursts of static from walkie-talkies carried by security. A voice rises in pitch and falls as it goes past the room: Paul's, talking into a cellphone.

"We should get going," Larry says, once they've both finished their coffee. Adam nods, sighing as he pushes to his feet and goes to fetch a shirt. He pauses, though, when he sees Larry still sitting on the couch, a figure alone. It hurts him somehow. Stepping back around the couch, he reaches for Larry's hands and tugs him upright.

"Thank you," he says quietly, and puts his arms around Larry's waist, holding him close. He can feel Larry's smile as he mirrors the gesture. "I'm just glad we're good, you and me."

"We have to be," Larry murmurs, close to his ear. "I can't have it any other way."

"Good." Adam smiles as he steps back. "I really wasn't expecting you to come here last night, you know."

Larry's smile widens a little; he shrugs, going over to get his shoes. "I wasn't going to. But Edge told me to get my head out of my ass."

Adam grins at that, sticking his own feet into sandals and rummaging in a drawer until he finds a clean shirt to pull on. "I'll have to thank him, then."

"We both will." Larry finishes tying his trainers and stands up once more, his eyes warm on Adam. "I don't know about you, but I'm not nearly done."

"With this?" Adam glances toward the bed, sheets rumpled and pillows scattered from their efforts, and then back at Larry with a grin. "I'd say we've barely begun."

The corners of Larry's mouth pull his smile wider for a moment, and then he ducks his head, moving toward the door. "Come on," he mutters. "They'll be waitin' for us."

As he grabs his wallet and heads out after Larry, Adam can't contain his own smile. He's suddenly no longer worried about the new shape of things between the four of them. In fact, he's pretty sure he's going to enjoy it.


End file.
